


through his stomach

by bropunzeling



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-21
Updated: 2014-04-21
Packaged: 2018-01-20 04:56:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1497454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bropunzeling/pseuds/bropunzeling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“So,” Robert says, taking the mug Paulie offers him and carefully sipping the coffee. “You know how to cook.”</p>
<p>[Borts gets cooking lessons that are only ninety percent about wooing Beau Bennett.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	through his stomach

**Author's Note:**

  * For [paperdolls](https://archiveofourown.org/users/paperdolls/gifts).



> for kay, who asked for it on twitter. unbetaed.

“Dude,” Beau says, bending over as he looks in the fridge and offering Robert a truly spectacular view of his ass. It’s pathetic how long it takes for Robert to look away. “Do we have any leftovers at all?”

“Uh, no,” Robert replies through his mouthful of Chobani. “I think we’re out.”

“Shit,” Beau says, standing up straight, though it does nothing to minimize how good his ass looks. Robert’s going to hell. “I thought we had some Pad Thai left.”

“That went bad, like, three weeks ago,” Robert tells him, scooping up some more yogurt. “I’m pretty sure you’d get food poisoning if you ate it.”

“I’m strong,” Beau tells him, grinning over his shoulder. Robert can just see the points of his canines and wonders what they would feel like tugging at his lips. Definitely going to hell. “I can take some old leftovers for sure.”

“Right,” Robert says finally, blinking out of his daze. “Sure.”

“You may not believe me,” Beau tells him, pointing at him in a way that’s probably supposed to be stern but mostly looks stupid and attractive, much like most of what Beau does, “but I’ve put on a lot of bulk. I can kick food poisoning’s ass.”

“I don’t think that’s how it works,” Robert finally says weakly, but Beau just shrugs.

“Whatever.” He leans against the fridge door, finally taking a sad, bruised-looking banana from the fruit bowl right next to the fridge. “You know, we should probably like, start learning how to cook for ourselves. Or at least you should.”

“Why me? Why can’t you?” Robert asks, but Beau just raises an eyebrow.

“I’m shit in the kitchen, man, I’ll burn our apartment down. You’re supposed to be the responsible one. You’ve got this.”

“I don’t think I’ve got this,” Robert replies, but it’s useless. Beau’s already giving him a wave, heading out the kitchen and towards the living room, and Robert’s left alone in the kitchen, sitting at the counter with his sad Chobani falling off his spoon into the plastic container.

-

The thing is, for being something that’s almost certainly a stupid chirp and definitely something Beau didn’t really mean, Robert can’t stop thinking about it. He thinks about it when they order their customary takeout, Beau calling dibs on all of the General Tso’s chicken like the asshole he is and leaving none for Robert. He thinks about it when he runs the sadly empty dishwasher, which pretty much just contains forks and pint glasses anyways. He definitely thinks about it when they go to lunch after practice, Beau wolfing down a sandwich and grinning about how good it is in a way that Robert wants to see pretty much always.

That’s how he ends up in Paulie’s kitchen on a Saturday afternoon, standing around awkwardly as Paulie starts pulling things out of the fridge.

“You want something to drink?” Paulie asks, making Robert jump. “It’s too early for beer, but you can have coffee or milk or something.”

“Coffee’s fine,” Robert says, and Paulie nods.

As he putters around the kitchen, measuring out grinds and pouring water into the espresso maker, Robert leans against the counter, looking around Paulie’s kitchen. It’s really nice – there’s some sort of ceramic tile pattern up on the wall behind the stove and a bowl of fruit that looks inviting and nice rather than pathetic and awful like the one they have at home. Paulie even has a standing mixer sitting in a corner that looks like the one Robert’s mom has, which means that he’s definitely serious about the whole cooking thing.

“So,” Robert says, taking the mug Paulie offers him and carefully sipping the coffee. “You know how to cook.”

Paul glances at him, lifting an eyebrow. “And?” he asks finally, leaning back against the counter.

“I. Uh. I want to learn how,” Robert admits, grimacing a little.

“Any particular reason?” Paulie asks, and Robert very definitely doesn’t think of impressing Beau.

“Just, you know. Figure I should learn, since I’m like, living mostly on my own and all,” Robert stutters out.

Fortunately Paulie just shrugs. “Okay,” he says, taking a sip of coffee. “We can start today, if you want.”

Robert blinks at him. “Today? I, uh, really? I mean, okay. Um. What are we making?”

Paul just chuckles. “We’ll start small. Think you can handle spaghetti?”

“Yes?” Robert says, unable to keep it from sounding like a question, since it sort of is. “Probably? I think?”

Paulie claps him on the shoulder with his good hand and makes a noise that probably isn’t him laughing at Robert. Probably. “Well, I guess we’re going to find out.”

-

Over the next few weeks as they start gearing up for playoffs, whenever they aren’t on a roadie, Robert heads over to Paulie’s a couple times a week. He’s steadily improving, or at least Paulie says he is, since now he almost never burns the shit out of anything.

Learning how to make spaghetti sauce was rough.

But still, Robert’s learning valuable shit, and the day Paul trusts him enough to learn how to make omelets – well, Robert’s not saying he’s getting emotional about it or anything, but still, it’s nice to know that Paulie thinks he’s not completely hopeless.

“You just got to be gentle with it,” Paul says, watching Robert whisk eggs and carefully pour in milk. “Otherwise it isn’t going to fluff up.”

“I’m trying,” Robert protests, staring down the bowl of egg mix and carefully whisking it with his fork.

He’s just about to pour the mix into the frying pan coated in melted butter – Paul had just given him a Look when he reached for the cooking spray – when the slam of the front door startles him.

“What’s Borts doing here?” he hears, and turns around just enough to see Nealer sitting at Paulie’s kitchen counter, leaning his elbows on the granite.

“Don’t look away from that,” Paulie reprimands him, swatting at Robert’s knuckles. “He wanted to learn how to cook, so I’m teaching him. Unlike some lazy-ass cherry pickers I know of,” he says over his shoulder, clearly talking to Nealsy, who squawks.

“Hey, I have tried, okay? You were there for the Great Pan Fire last year, which means you know exactly the reason why I’m not the one cooking,” Nealer replies sulkily. “Anyways, what’s up, Borts? Any reason for learning how to cook?”

“Just figured I should, you know, try to act like an adult,” Robert shoots back, earning himself another disgruntled noise from Nealsy.

“What the hell, Borts? Since when were you this cruel to your elders and betters?”

“Elder? Yes. Better? Not sure about that one, James,” Paul says dryly, nudging at Robert’s arm. “See how the edges are solidifying like that? That means you can add some cheese now.”

“Oh, uh, okay.” Robert reaches for the pile of shredded cheddar and carefully spreads it over the middle of the omelet. “Now what?”

“Wait until it looks almost cooked, and then you can fold the edges over,” Paul instructs, walking around Robert to go talk to Nealer, probably. Robert checks over his shoulder and finds Paul leaning down a little as he braces himself against the counter, James looking up at him. They’re smiling at each other and it’s stupidly intimate, and suddenly all Robert wants is to have even half of the feeling he can see all over their faces.

When he checks back down at the frying pan, the eggs are looking a little too brown. “Shit,” he yelps, folding over the edges and flipping the omelet, which promptly decides to become two pieces of an almost omelet. “Um. I think I fucked up.”

Nealer just laughs like a jackass, but Paulie sighs and comes back over to the stove. “You’re fine. The first couple times are always a little bit harder.”

Still, despite falling apart, the omelet manages to taste delicious, and Robert has to fight Nealer off to get his half, which just goes to show. Nealer may laugh at him like a fuckface, but Robert’s getting this shit down, so there.

-

Robert comes back from another cooking lesson at Paulie’s to find Beau hanging around the kitchen in sweats, reading some magazine and clearly trying very hard to look relaxed and bored.

“Hey Beau,” Robert says finally, wondering when Beau’s going to figure out he’s holding ESPN upside down.

“Oh, uh, hey,” Beau says, putting the magazine on the counter and looking up at Robert. “Where were you earlier?”

“Oh, you know, over at Paulie’s,” Robert says, opening up the fridge and pulling out the half gallon of Odwalla they keep because Robert feels bad about not really eating fruit that often.

“Oh,” Beau says. His tone is really weird, and Robert wonders if he’s coming down with something. “At Paulie’s, huh.”

“Yeah, he’s been teaching me how to cook, you know.” Robert heads over to the cup cupboard, and after some debate, pulls out two so he can pour both of them some Superfood. “Do you want some smoothie?”

“I, uh,” Beau stutters, and when Robert looks up, he’s biting his lip. It makes Robert think dirty, dirty things, which is sadly nothing new. “Sure, I – thanks.”

“Yeah, for sure,” Robert replies, chugging down his smoothie and wiping off his mouth with the back of his hand once he finishes. “Hey, how was practice? Think you’re coming back soon?”

“Yeah, pretty soon,” Beau replies. He’s still staring at Robert and it doesn’t look like he’s even touched his smoothie, which, what the hell, Beau’s from California. Robert’s pretty sure that’s all they eat down there. “I, uh – I think I’m gonna go. You know. Prep.”

With that Beau bolts, leaving behind his cup of smoothie and Robert standing in the middle of the kitchen. “Prep for what?” Robert asks, staring at the doorway, but Beau’s already gone, leaving Robert with way too much smoothie and no clue as to what that was about.

-

Beau comes back to the line-up on a Friday, a one game road trip to Columbus that could mean clinching the playoff spot. 

It ends up being a good return, the game resulting in two points and finally clinching. Robert definitely gets more than a little bit turned on when Beau beats out McElhinney in the third, just a few seconds after Kuni puts them on the board. They don’t really get a chance to celebrate afterwards, everyone too tired and trying to just get through the flight back home, but when all the guys pass Beau on the plane, they reach out to ruffle his hair, and Robert has to look away from the way he’s smiling or else he’s totally going to get caught.

The next morning, Robert gets up early and starts making pancakes.

He’s had time to pick up supplies without tipping Beau off, since Beau’s been down with Wilkes-Barre getting conditioned for games, and thanks to his cooking lessons it doesn’t take all that much effort to get the batter going. Paulie’s taught him better than to use mix, or at least had been snobby enough to ensure Robert would never buy it again, so he starts sifting flour and baking powder and getting a bunch all over his t-shirt.

Once the batter’s about ready and the frying pan’s heated up, Robert pads over to the fridge and grabs the pack of bacon he’s hidden behind the egg carton. Beau sleeps like the dead on weekends, but Robert still uses pre-ground coffee instead of starting up the grinder, not wanting to wake him up.

Twenty minutes later, Robert’s got a stack of pancakes sitting on a plate, bacon sizzling in a pan, and coffee freshly brewed. He’s feeling pretty fucking good about himself when Beau finally shows up in the kitchen, shirtless and in sweats, hair ruffled in a way that makes Robert want to reach out so he can smooth it down. Or mess it up more. Either’s okay.

“Wow,” Beau says, staring at the counter, even as Robert gestures with the spatula so he can start grabbing food. “This looks awesome, Borts.”

“Thanks” Robert says, turning the burners off and grabbing his own plate. “Better try it first. Want to make sure I didn’t fuck up or anything.”

Beau takes a bite of pancakes and immediately moans in a way that makes Robert’s stomach drop and his cheeks burn. “Fuck,” he says through his food, “this is really good! Since when did you learn how to cook?”

“I told you,” Robert says, focusing down at the frying pan full of bacon and picking the crispiest piece so Beau can’t see how flushed he is, “Paulie was teaching me how to cook.”

“Oh,” Beau says, his tone so weird that Robert has to look up at him. “So, uh, that was for real? The cooking lessons and everything?”

Robert frowns, squinting a little at Beau. “I mean – yes? What did you think I was doing?”

Beau opens his mouth, then shuts it. “I, uh,” he says finally, “I kind of maybe was. Uh. I thought you were maybe. You know. With Paulie.”

Robert stares at him. “Wait,” he says finally, “You thought I was – that I was hooking up with Paulie?” As soon as he says it, he can’t help laughing, the stupid chuckle that gets him chirped in practice.

“I don’t know, you were over at his place all the fucking time!” Beau protests, waving an arm. “It wasn’t that stupid an idea.”

“Dude,” Robert says, leaning against the counter and unable to keep the laugh out of his voice as he sets down his plate, “like Paulie would ever hook up with me. He already has one ginormous dumbass in his life, so I doubt he wants two. Besides, I think he knows that I have – uh.” Robert stops, but Beau sets down his fork, eyes narrowed.

“You have a what?” he asks, and there’s no chance of disguising how bad Robert’s blushing now.

“I, uh,” he says, crossing his arms and looking away, because he’s pretty sure he doesn’t want to see Beau’s reaction, “that I have a thing. For you.”

There’s an incredibly long silence, Robert staring down at their awful kitchen tiles, unwilling to look up and find Beau furious at him, or, well, he doesn’t know, but he doesn’t want to find out. When he hears the sound of the barstool scraping across the floor, he still doesn’t glance up, pretty sure he doesn’t want to see Beau leave the kitchen, which he’s pretty sure would then lead into Beau moving out, and –

“You’re into me?”

Robert jerks and looks up only to find Beau a whole lot closer than he was a minute ago. From this distance, Robert can’t exactly look away from Beau’s chest, or his arms, or the way his hair sticks up.

Finally he stutters out, “I, uh – yeah.”

Beau smiles, and – Robert doesn’t know how to describe it, other than it’s totally fucking amazing. “Dude,” he says softly, “me too,” and then he’s leaning in and kissing Robert full on the mouth.

It takes a couple seconds for Robert to get the picture, but then – well, the last thing he wants is to kiss Beau badly, so he starts kissing back hard, reaching out to grab at Beau’s frankly amazing biceps. Beau tugs at his lower lip with his teeth, and Robert can’t stop the small broken noise that startles out of him, tightening his grip in a way that probably should hurt but Beau seems to like. Or at least, Robert thinks so, because Beau promptly gets a hand in Robert’s back pocket, palming at Robert’s ass even as Robert retaliates by getting a hand in Beau’s hair and tangling his fingers in the short strands at the nape of Beau’s neck.

When they break apart so Robert can do important things like breathe, he finds Beau smiling at him. The Sunshine nickname has never made more sense to Robert than right now, because Beau’s beaming at him like – well. You know.

“Wait,” Robert says, a thought striking him, “You were totally jealous of Paulie, weren’t you?”

Under his tan Beau’s blushing, a pale pink that has Robert wondering if other parts of Beau’s body will do the same thing if he works on it hard enough. “I, uh – maybe? A little? I’ve been gone on you for a really long time,” Beau admits.

“Well, I mean, same,” Robert replies, because if he’s going in, he’s going all in. It earns him Beau kissing him again, even harder than before and this time slipping him some seriously filthy tongue action.

The pancakes and bacon go cold. Robert can’t say he minds.


End file.
